Silverlight Terrace My competition can't see me 'cause I don't own a mirror

What had he come into? He wondered, trying not to snicker a bit to himself as she proclaimed doubles. His nostrils flared, ears forward, senses sharp as he searched past her overwhelming detail of not theirs. Atlas mentioned herbs for her head, and Antares only continued looking her over, testing her scent to no real answer of use. What was wrong with her head, even? Had she been struck? Or.. not? On the outside, didn't appear obviously like anyone or anything had beaten her up lately. Eyes narrowing, he slipped in a little closer, mostly just to peer as she spoke--strangely, to him, to boot. Amazeballs? Sure, he supposed, though he had never heard it quite like that.

He let her have her space to rise, of course, and he could finish that, unaware that it was her hurts that tapered her words off. Mhm. Moonspear, he filled in. I'm Antares, he answered, trying not to scrunch his nose at the smell of her purge. Even past it, he wasn't able to recognize much. You don't smell like near here, he added, the why? unsaid for now, but meant to be strongly implied in his looming. Atlas could ask for more, too, he was sure.. but he wanted to veer onto the side of suspicion, given what he knew might  be out here.